Broken Scrap

Saturday 28th February 2015, 15:12 PM

It hadn't taken Mike long to see the eagerness. Resonating within the young entrepreneur named Reggie Wood. As if he had been waiting for a long time for this exact moment. He had brought Mike inside the building and was taking him on a guided tour throughout the attraction he had called Fazbear Frights.

Mike's suspicion was that there had been extensive research done before the place was built. That was only enforced as he took in the innards of the haunted house attraction. Throughout the dark hallways were cracked and dusty tiled floors and walls. Lined with crudely drawn recreations of animatronics within a child's imagination.

Loose wires hung from parts of the ceiling, though they seemed to be dead and superficial. What appeared to be mould and rot were leaking from the cracks between the tiles. Mike could only wonder if that was also artificial.

Even the smell was authentic. A mix of pizza, sweat, and copper penetrated his senses and almost made his eyes watered. Shaking off the feeling of dread that had long ago left his body, Mike scowled and pressed on.

As they pushed past yellow-tinted fluorescent light bulbs, something out of the corner of Mike's eye stopped him in his tracks. Staring at the thing, it felt like a stab to his lung and his breath was cut short.

He'd thought it was another lamp. Two large spots of light hit the walls like a spotlight. It wasn't until he saw the source of it that he understood. Laid on the floor, eyes illuminated like a jack-o-lantern, was the head of Chica.

Feeling his legs weaken underneath him, Mike stepped closer to the head. It was worn and dusty, but in good shape. Underneath the beak was the hint of chipped metal that exposed the inner material. It was as if someone had taken something sharp and heavy onto the neck.

Biting his lip, Mike took his eyes away from it. He saw Reggie walking further down the hallway, oblivious to the fact that his guest was preoccupied. Glancing at the head one more time, Mike went to catch up with Reggie, his mind on what he had seen.

No way to tell, He insisted to himself, probably a spare head, found in a backstage room.

But the idea that down the hallway from him was the decapitated head of an old friend hurt him deeper than he'd felt in a long while.

They turned a few corners and Mike was once more stunned by the horrific sight of an old friend. Down the end of one of the hallways stood a rack, almost like a scarecrow. With the body and head of Bonnie, which was also lit up like a jack-o-lantern, it stared back at him.

Reggie was going off on the history that Mike had learnt himself long ago. Likely when the entrepreneur was still in pre-school, as they turned another corner. They came face-to-face with the mounted head of Foxy, his one good eye beaming with a brilliant light.

Turning their back on the head and continuing down the hallway, Mike willed himself not to look back. Not to see the blank, almost accusing stares the lifeless heads were giving him.

They passed a long screen of glass into another hallway with different tiles, before turning one last corner. In front of the doorway to what appeared to be a recreation of the office Mike had once worked in, stood another scarecrow. This one was the frame of Freddy, his head and body mounted up.

The sight of it chilled Mike so much that he almost didn't notice that, unlike the others, Freddy didn't have a light.

Mike stared at the scarecrow for a moment. Turning to Reggie, who was explaining the significance of a pair of rotting bobbleheads.

"So, the uh…animals." Mike kept his voice neutral, trying to think of what someone ignorant of Freddy's would say, "What are their stories? The ones propped up, I mean?"

"Oh, the costume parts! Cool, aren't they!" Reggie smiled, "I tell you, they're collectors' items, dude! Very rare! Took me a long while to find them, too. These parts were used on the animatronics themselves. They were, like, skeletons, and the engineers would put the parts on them."

"Are they authentic?"

"Far as I can tell. Serial number's still on them. I checked with my sources, and they came back genuine. From this warehouse that used to be there until it got burnt down in the late nineties. They would store extra parts there and send them out for replacements."

Hesitant, Mike looked at him. "So you got these parts from the warehouse?"

"Nah, I got them at an auction. They got 'em in the pizzeria itself, and they may have even been worn by the animatronics!" Reggie's smile turned to confused bemusement, "Of course, they also told me that the parts were undamaged. But the bear's jaw was hanging off and the chicken's chest was caved in…"

Knowing that he couldn't bear to hear any more, Mike tried to change the subject, "So, that auction…you got this from there?"

"Some of it, but I've been collecting this for the last three years. This is a long term project, yo! Took a lot of work. My uncle would be proud…"

"So you got these parts from an auction? Who sold them? Do you know where they got it from?"

"I dunno, some dudes in three-piece suits. Weird dudes, for sure. They seemed like they wanted the parts off their hands."

Falling quiet for a moment, Mike digested that before trying something he knew was risky. "Say, you mind me having a look at one of the serial numbers?"

He feared that would raise suspicion. He'd either caught a lucky break or he was overestimating, because Reggie shrugged. Smiling before taking the head from the Freddy Scarecrow and passing it over to Mike.

Glancing at the head before turning it over, Mike couldn't help but notice the stained handprint stretching across the right side of the face. Flipping it over, Mike peered at the bar code and number written across the back of the inner side.

It was genuine, that was for sure. He'd spent a bit of time examining bar codes like this during his own research and collection over the years. Nothing on this scale.

He only wished he'd made a point to check his friends' bar codes two decades ago. Even then, though, he supposed the costume parts could have been changed at any point.

Seeing him in deep thought, Reggie frowned. "Uh, you good? Earth to Blue?"

Snapping out of his trance, Mike blinked at him, "Blue?"

"Yeah, your eyes are blue, y'know? Also, you, uh…seem a bit sad."

"You don't know the half of it." Mike passed him the head back and glanced around, "Seems a lot of effort was put into this place."

Puffing out his chest, Reggie smiled, "Yeah, it took a lot of planning! Anyway, you still wanting that job?"

Mike could sense the hint of desperation in Reggie's voice. Was it due to the likelihood that no one else were biting, so the young entrepreneur was running low on options? Or something more?

Either way, Mike knew it didn't matter much. He doubted he would be here for long. This was a way to uncover some more answers, or leads. "Why not? You said it was a security job, right?"

"Kinda, yeah. I can get more into it when you start. I've got a few positions still needing filling, but it's hard, you know?"

Nodding along, Mike considered his chance. "I have some other people interested in some work, so I can mention it to them for you. When do I start?"

Hesitating, Reggie shrugged, "Still setting up, but why not Monday? Monday morning sounds good? I've got some stuff like a flashlight, but no uniform yet…do you have, like, a shirt and stuff to wear? You need to look like an authentic security guard."

"I can pull some things together." Turning around, Mike left, walking back through the hallways of Fazbear Frights. As he walked along, thoughts and questions passed through his head, hitting him with problems. Doubts were starting to creep in as he questioned how they could handle this.

Especially if his suspicions were correct about the men who provided the relics Reggie Wood was using for his haunted house.

Because if they were, Mike knew one thing for certain: This wasn't something he, Ella, and Jack could handle on their own.

Saturday 28th February 2015, 16:34 PM

The drive back from Fazbear Frights was quiet. As Michelle and Jack made the occasional comment to each other, they both were concerned by Mike's silence. They knew better than to try and push him into speaking; when he was either brooding or brainstorming, it was better to leave him alone.

As they parked up near the apartment that Mike had rented out, the silence persisted even as they left the vehicle and entered the complex. A flight of stairs later and they were in, amongst an empty room. Though cheap and without questions, it hadn't come with any furniture.

"You know," Ella mused, "we could do with getting something for the place. A couple of chairs, maybe?"

"Beds, too." Jack agreed.

Walking over to the window, Mike gazed out for a moment before speaking. "They were in there."

That gave the two of them pause. "Who?" Ella asked first.

"My friends. I don't have proof, but…those parts. They were being used as decorations. They came from the animatronics themselves. I can feel it."

"What gave you that idea?"

"The owner, Reggie, has been going around auctions and collectors, gathering pieces from the Freddy days. He had merchandise and parts. Including pieces of the suits the animatronics wore. The serial numbers were valid, which means they weren't forgeries. And the marks on them…they were genuine."

"Mike, where are you getting at?"

"If those parts were from them…then they're gone." Mike's voice was empty. Devoid of emotion. "They must have been destroyed."

"Well, yeah. They were repossessed, weren't they? You knew that."

Mike was quiet.

"Didn't you?"

"I knew what their repossession meant, and I knew what was going to happen to them. But…I guess I never accepted it. It seemed impossible."

Michelle stared at him for the longest moment, feeling as if she had bit into a sour piece of fruit. Then, sighing, she tried to speak positively.

"So, what else did you find there? Any clues?"

"Honestly? Other than the parts and an owner who doesn't seem all there, not much. But the way he spoke about how he got those parts…it sounded like someone wanted him to have them. Like it was orchestrated."

Blinking, Ella and Jack exchanged a look. "How did he get those parts?"

"Some businessmen or agents gave him a bargain. Very shadowy, by the sounds of it. Which got me thinking: Who would benefit from Fazbear Frights opening? The Freddy's name becoming known again?"

It was Jack who answered this time. "You don't think…no, it couldn't have! Fazbear Entertainment have wiped their hands clean of Freddy's!"

"That's their official response, yeah. But I mean…did anyone believe it?"

"Giving their disgraced property to some moron, though…" Ella shook her head, "What would they gain from that?"

"A distraction? Trying to lure me out, or the people who helped me? It's something they want and they're willing to dredge up the past to get it."

"You think they found you," Michelle suggested, "and now they're using you as bait?"

"Maybe…the last time I went up against them, they hired the deadliest mercenary they could get their hands on to kill me. We're not dealing with typical corruption; this is less a can of worms and more like a silo."

Jack spoke up, "Then it's time we play their game. I can start pulling some digital strings, see if I can dig anything up."

"What you do best." Mike gave a small smile, "Don't go big, or leave anything that can be traced. If they are on to us, we need to give the impression that we're out of our depth."

"But are we?" Michelle asked.

Mike fell silent for a moment. "I'm considering the worst case scenario, here. But the more I think about it, the less options we have. If Fazbear Entertainment know about us, they'll strike at any moment. If they don't, they'll learn. They're ruthless and efficient. They left God knows how many bodies, buried in mass graves or otherwise hidden away."

"If we're going up against the king, we can't miss. And to not miss, we need resources, funding, and skillsets."

"Well, we've got one of them." Ella smirked, "Jack's good with tech. We're good with guns."

"We are. But let's say, as a thought experiment, that Fazbear Entertainment hires someone like Dutch Lawson again. What do we do?"

Ella opened her mouth, but it closed again. She remembered the stories he had told her about the mercenary known as the Hell's Herald.

"We're good, but someone like that is a demon. And a friend once told me that sometimes we need demons on our side."

Staring at him, Ella inclined her head, "This Crucible. The one you talked about, said helped you. You want them on this?"

"Not them." Mike stared out the window, where the first shower of rain was hitting the window, "One in particular."

Silence fell amongst them as they processed those words. Mike knew that when it came to dedication and willpower, he had all he needed in that room. But neither of the two companions he'd picked up understood what they were dealing with. This wasn't a shady business they could leak the practices of onto the internet.

They were now in the snake's lair and it would only take one wrong move.

"Do what you gotta do." Ella finally spoke up, "In the meantime, I'm going to get this place up and running. Right now, this is barely a HQ."

As his two companions left to do their bidding, Mike went up to the window and stared out of it. It would take an hour or two, but he would figure out where he'd put that number. He knew he'd kept it.

It had been a while since he'd spoken to Thomas Caine.

Saturday 28th February 2015, 11:34 AM

The rain was heavy against the window of his office. Outside, bright neon lights from the tall building across from them, as well as the dancing shadows coming from the windows, told of the parties and clubbing that was going on.

Other than the sound of that party and the occasional car passing through the street, the office was silent. Dark and secluded. All there was in front of him were the ruffled papers and reports that he made a point to review every night. One neglected day would always lead up to a huge pile that he would need to sort out.

Sighing as he rubbed his face, feeling the strands from his long full beard that stretched to his chest, he got up from his chair. Approaching the window, he stared out at the lights below. Something was on his mind. He knew so, yet it eluded him. His concentration had been waning over the last week.

Absently, he started to reorganise the right shelf along his back wall, correcting the occasional flaw in the otherwise perfect display. It concerned him how dark it was outside. Not even noon, yet the thick clouds and mist darkened the world.

A sound of creaking wood and blinding light pulled him from his trance. Glancing back towards the door, he saw a man in black enter.

"I didn't realise you'd returned."

The man in black shrugged, "Pilgrimage ended earlier than we expected. That militia group was…well, overestimated."

"Well done."

"Tyler did most of the work."

"What of the pilgrims?"

"All reached their destination safely."

"Good."

"Something on your mind, boss?"

He snorted, "You don't need to call me that, Carl. Sorry I had to pull you away from your congregation."

Carl shrugged again before approaching the desk, "I was doing the lord's work. They understood. Now, back to the matter at hand. Before I deliver the news I came with, what is going on?"

"Spencer hasn't reported in. His team, neither. I'm getting worried."

"You don't need to. He's just like his old man."

Thomas smiled at that. "That thought frightens me every time I see him. What did you need to give me?"

"Well…" Carl readjusted his clerical collar, "We got a call. From bear country."

Staring at him with a confused expression, Thomas's face reflexed into understanding after a few moments. "Huh. I'd almost forgotten about that…"

"I made sure to verify it." Carl pulled the report out from his coat pocket and placed it on the desk, "It came from a number from New York, but the call was placed in bear country. We answered it. The caller asked for you, and referred to something called 'Fazbear Frights'. There was a recording of the call."

"And?"

"No doubt." Carl nodded grimly, "It was Mike Schmidt."

A few moments passed before Thomas nodded. "It's been twenty years since then, hasn't it? I gave that number to him after we lost the Fazbear case."

"It feels like a lifetime ago."

"Indeed." Looking outside his window once more, Thomas sighed, "Leave me the phone. I'll call him back, see what this is all about."

"No worries. You want me to investigate what's going on in San Francisco, see if I can track Spencer down?"

"I'd appreciate it." Picking up the phone, Thomas stared down at it as Carl left, "You think he's found something?"

"I don't know. I would have thought Mike would have moved on by now." Carl gave a small shrug, "But you remember how stubborn he was."

As Carl left, Caine looked back at the phone, sighed, and rang the number. After a few seconds, it picked up.

"Hello?"

In spite of himself, Caine smiled, "Mike. It's good to hear from you."

"Likewise, old friend. I wished it was under better circumstances."

"Don't we always? I was told that you've been looking up something called Fazbear Frights. What is happening over there?"

Hesitating at first, Mike explained everything to him. How he'd received a newspaper about the horror attraction opening up. How it became obvious that this wasn't some cash grab or college project. It was a well-planned and suspiciously detailed comeback from a long-dead franchise.

When Mike brought up the way how the owner of the attraction had gotten his resources, as well as the contents he'd gotten, Thomas found himself sharing Mike's suspicions.

"It sounds to me," Caine murmured, "that Fazbear Entertainment has a hand in this."

"That's what I was thinking. I don't know how deep this Reggie is in with them, but I reckon he's a pawn. But if they're involved, what's their game plan?"

"I don't know." Caine admitted, "But whatever it is, I wouldn't put it past them that they're using some old tricks from their playbook."

"Whatever their plans are, it's clear they haven't changed. This is going to be complicated and I don't know how much time it will take, but this is the chance I've been waiting for. Listen…Thomas…I know our deal was a long time ago, so I'll get it if things have changed."

"Nonsense." Caine said immediately, "It's back home, right? I'll put some things together, run some favours, and be there in a day or two."

A sigh of relief came from the other end of the phone. "Tom, I owe you one."

"I made you a promise. That's all there is to it." Getting up from his seat, Caine felt reenergised, "Keep your head down until then. Once I'm in the country, I'll call you to set up a meeting."

With that, Caine hung up. Resting the phone on the desk in front of him, Caine grabbed his suit coat from the chair, put it on, and walked out of his office into the hallways. Passing by his workforce, all of whom were up and around either in meetings, working at their desks, or in the training area. Caine spotted Carl talking to one of their intel workers, Peter.

As Carl finished his conversation with Peter, he saw Caine approach him. With a raised eyebrow, Carl asked the question. "What did he say?"

Getting close, Caine's voice was low. "I've got a meeting. I'm going back."

"That serious, huh?"

"You could say that. It sounds like Fazbear Entertainment are plotting something. We need to intercept them before they can do anything."

"Alright. I'll mobilise the boys. Tyler's Back soon, and we've got Brim, Occam, and Black here. How many you want with you?"

Wincing, Caine knew the next part would be difficult. "None of them. I'm going alone."

For the longest time, Carl stared at him. "So," He eventually said, "just me and you?"

"I'm going alone."

"Look, I know you're my boss and, Lord forgive me, but like hell you are."

"Carl, I'm not going to pretend the Fazbear Conspiracy hasn't been reopened, but I cannot justify using our assets on this. It's a personal case, nothing more. We're neck-deep in more important issues. I have commitments, but I'm not dragging anyone here into it."

"But going in without backup?" Carl shook his head, "Even if I was okay with letting you go alone, I can't keep it quiet. You've got six other votes against you, boss."

Though Caine wasn't happy about it, he knew Carl was right. It didn't matter if it was the right decision; the others would go against it. If he didn't do something about it now, he wouldn't even be able to get out the country without being intercepted.

"A compromise, then." Caine proposed, "I will keep my involvement out of it until the others know. Keep them distracted, send them on missions…once I'm there, I will tell them about my decision. Whatever their decision is from that point is theirs."

"You know what they'll do."

"Aye." Caine sighed, "In the meantime, only tell Brim. You and he have control until then. I have full confidence in your leadership. The fact is, we have to be as subtle about this as possible and the moment they get involved, that's out the window. Deal?"

At first, it seemed that Carl was going to disagree. To reject the deal. But he seemed to decide against it. "I hope you don't make me regret this, boss."

"I don't intend to."

"What about Sam? You're telling her yourself, or you want her to find out afterwards, too?"

"And risk opening the gates of hell itself?" Caine couldn't help but smile, "No, I'll have to tell her before I leave. I hope she won't try stopping me."

Minutes later, Caine was packing up anything he needed from his office. Knowing he needed to go the bare minimum to rouse as little attention as possible, he could only bring one case of Body Armor and a few magazines.

Next up was contacting someone to get a plane ticket quickly. Commercial, nothing fancy, something to get him from point A to B.

The fun would begin once his boots were on the ground.

Apologies for the wait. Depending on things, I may be taking a Hiatus after the first act is done.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: Yeah, I've been thinking about that. I've got a few ideas on how to handle the other flashbacks, but I'll have to work that out once I get to them. And yep, right on the money with Reggie being phone dude.

Don't be afraid to review. It'll be good to know how people are feeling about this one so far.